


Rose and Dagger

by jeruknyeprot (jerukbusuk)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Agalmatophilia (doll fetish), Bondage, Conditioning, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drug Use, M/M, Multi, Objectification, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, Underage Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:21:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28505142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jerukbusuk/pseuds/jeruknyeprot
Summary: Non-chronological snippets of stories I wrote for my original characters. Include multiple universes of the same characters, multiple pairings, not everything is connected. Contains a lot of smut and fetishes.
Kudos: 3





	Rose and Dagger

**Author's Note:**

> just in case anyone reads this, please, please take care to see each warnings on the chapters. I write a lot of extreme-ish fetish so if it's not your cup of tea, please do not read and do not comment. just close the tab.
> 
> Warning: R18, vague, implied drug-use, implied kidnapping, bondage, dub-con, implied non-con, implied brainwashing, agalmatophilia (kinda), objectification of a human.
> 
> **THIS STORY DEPICTS UNHEALTHY RELATIONSHIP  
>  DO NOT READ IF THE WARNING MIGHT TRIGGER YOU IN ANY KIND OF WAY  
> PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF WHEN READING**

He could feel hands on his skin. Caressing. Marking. Claiming. Their touches left behind a trail of poison. He was being burnt alive. His senses alit. He twitched and writhed and trembled, trying to escape even as he longed for more. But the touches were persistent, demanding his surrender.

“Ssh…”

He jerked away from the whisper right next to his ear only for something to prevent his movements. Something… something was keeping him in place. What was it? He couldn’t remember. He didn’t remember how he got there either.

_(Where was he?)_

“Just relax.”

The voice continued to whisper. Lips, hot and wet, pressed against his ear. They slid down to his jaws, latching on to his neck, grazing his collarbone, and still they didn’t stop their descent.

“!”

“Feels good here, doesn’t it?”

A choked moan escaped his lips. The lips worshiped his body, kissing his skin in reverence, coloring it with reds of passion and purples of pain. They paused on his chest, above his heart, just pressing softly without moving, as if feeling the way his heart beat sluggishly in its cage. He couldn’t see but he was sure there was a smile on those lips.

_(He couldn’t see?)_

The lips left his chest. He missed them already.

A rustle of clothes. He shivered as cold air met his skin.

There were hands again. Fingertips trailing down his sides, to his hips, to grasp his thighs and spread them open. His breath hitched and he tried to close them. Indecent. Exposed. He felt naked, more than he ever felt before.

The hands were unmoving. Fingers flexed, biting into his thighs to keep them spread. He could feel their heat seeping under his skin. His sensitive nerves multiplying the sensation until it felt like a hot branding iron was pressing onto his skin, marking him as a livestock. His thighs jerked again. The hands didn’t budge. He whined low in his throat in protest.

There was a shushing noise. Cooing at him as if calming down a baby. Thumbs, rough and calloused, rubbed circles into his skin. Trying to get him to relax. To stop his futile resistance. To submit. Against his will his muscles relaxed. His legs fell open on their own. His head lolled to the side. He could feel saliva drip from the edge of his lips.

_(Huh?)_

“That’s it. Good boy. Just lie down and let me take care of you.”

The hands left. He could hear something popping and then there were fingers on his entrance, slick and wet and cold. He tried to jerk away again. The fingers followed him, persistently pressing until the ring of muscles gave way and let them inside. They probed deep, coating the walls in lubrication, stretching the tight passage, all the while purposely missing the bundle of nerves that would make everything bearable.

He whined. He wanted more. Wanted… wanted what?

“What is it?”

He tilted his head to the voice. Where was the person? He opened his mouth, but he couldn’t speak.

_(Had he ever closed his mouth the entire time?)_

A chuckle. Amused. Condescending. And then there were lips on his own, tongue licking the saliva wetting his cheeks.

“Impatient?”

One more finger slipped inside. He felt so full. His entrance was stretched wide to fit everything. Lips latched onto his neck. Sucking bruises and leaving teeth marks. One bite was too strong. Teeth broke skin and red liquid welled out of the wounds. He groaned. There was that chuckle again.

“Think you’re ready now?”

The fingers slipped out. He whined at the sudden loss. He felt empty now. He didn’t like it.

_(He didn’t?)_

And then, as sudden as the loss, he felt pleasure so intense he blacked out. When he came to, something was inside of him. Thrusting in and out harshly, brushing his prostate in each thrust. He squirmed, wanting to escape the borderline painful pleasure. The hands on his hips held on tight, pressing him down to the mattress, unable to get away as the person enjoyed his body. Choked moans escaped his lips without him able to prevent it.

“Ah, there you are.” Thrust. “How do you feel?” Slide. “You look like you’re enjoying this.” Thrust.

One hand left his hips. A finger touched his leaking member, pressing lightly on the tip. He shuddered. He wanted to cry, wanted to moan, wanted to scream. Every sensation felt doubled, tripled. He couldn’t discern pleasure from pain, pain from pleasure. The bruising grip on his hip felt pleasurable. The deep thrust felt painful. The shackles on his arms were good. The finger on his member hurt.

_(Shackles…?)_

He blinked.

_(He still couldn’t see.)_

He fell silent.

_(He still couldn’t speak.)_

Everything stopped.

The fog in his mind cleared up slightly.

“Oh? That was fast.”

And resumed again.

He trashed, fighting against his holds, trying to scream. But the shackles held strong and pleasure still muddled his brain. His thought process was sluggish and his limbs heavy. A particularly hard thrust made him gasp and choke on his own saliva. The person chuckled again. Amused. Condescending. He screamed, muffled against the gag holding his mouth open.

“Ssh… Relax. It feels good. It feels good and you want this.”

The voice whispered right beside his ear. Soft, coaxing, comforting. Hypnotizing. He shook his head, desperately fighting the trance he felt creeping back in his head.

“You like this. You let me do this because you like this. Don’t you?”

…did he?

“You like pleasure when it’s a bit painful.”

Really?

“You like being used like a doll. For my enjoyment. For my entertainment.”

A doll… right. That was why he couldn’t see, couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. A doll could do nothing of those.

“That’s right. You’re just a doll.”

He was a doll.

“That’s why you will lie down and let me take care of you.”

That was good. He didn’t have to do anything. He didn’t need to think either. He only needed to lie down and let this person take care of him. Easy.

He relaxed in his restrain. His head lolled to the side. The person chuckled. There were lips pressing a kiss to his forehead. He couldn’t see but he was sure there was a smile on those lips.

“Good boy.”


End file.
